ZX11

The grocery store. Let me think. ............... yep, suicide suddenly becomes a most appealing, viable option.

I don't like going into the store driveway. You always look like the moron when someone's crumb snatcher comes barreling out of store, out of control and into the roadway DIRECTLY IN FRONT OF THE DOORS, and I nearly run the two legged varmit over. { then mom is yelling at me for almost running over her little angel !!}


So, now I go into the store and see all this food, of which, I don't know what it is. That which I do know and like, I can't cook. So, now I look like a re-re wandering about the isles of whatever it is, not really sure of what I want.

{ How do you women do it? Today is Monday and you already know what you are in the mood for 3 weeks from today???? Are my wires loose? I don't know what I want right now, how am I suppossed to know next week?}

Ok, so I got the only stuff that match my abilities, tastes, budget. This is usually something simple { I am a guy, you know}. I got 10 Michelina's nuclear dinners, all the same stuff. I also have, in my possession, several 2 liters of Coke { hate coffee, need caffine} and a loaf of bread.

During my aimlees wandering through the building I do encounter old folks. I say nothing, just take another isle. It is here that I am crotch rammed by some high strung, high speed child screaming and running chased only by mom who is pushing her cart at high speed scaring the hell out of little girly sue who is sitting in the trust seat. {so called because you really gotta trust someone pushing you backwards through that kind of zoo}.

I'm ok. I survived by ducking and weaving, weaving and ducking. I am at the front.

All 30 cash registers are there. You have the "chance it" self check-outs that almost always require assistance from someone else, then the "speed lines, you know those. "10 items or less". They are usually the ones with 85 people and all of them have I don't know, maybe a cart full, plus or minus 10 items. { Thats it !! The sign means "10 items or less" of a cart full }.

Then you have the nice ladies at their respective machines of bank busting capabilities.

I think I will go to the real person isle. On my journey there, I see a 600 pound woman riding an electric cart. She sees the open isle I am walking toward. Suddenly, the cart starts to pick up speed, a look of contest comes about her face and she is racing me to this isle. { do I look like a jackass and bust off in a sprint? or just let her go?}. I stop and smile, nodding my head for her to go. Then, she slows and takes her time. It doesn't matter to her that I am lugging all this stuff, SHE is the one with the in-store transportation.

Then, I get to the kind lady who really doesn't care if I bought my foodstuff or I bought everything not edible or if I bought a cart full of condoms. All she wants to know is paper or plastic?, foodstamps?, credit card?, debit card?
I say cash and she is suddenly struck with confusion. She pauses, and pushes a couple buttons. Yep. They accept cash; life is good after all.

As I pay, the lady of fine clothing says " not married, huh?" "Excuse me???" I say. "Well, married men would never buy such garbage". "yea, huh-uh" I retort.

As I head to my truck, where my dog, Junior is waiting,wondering what kind of treasure I am bringing, I am nearly ran over by someone who is just trying to get into the parking lot.

Why do they put driveways right infront of the door like that? What if I got run over? My Coke would have ruined from the violent shaking as it skidded across the parking lot.

Things I would rather do:

spend three hours on a long distance, collect call from Tokyo. {It would be cheaper}

bash my finger with a hammer while trying drive a nail { It wouldn't hurt as much as the crotch ramming child}

put my nose in some old, worn out sneakers. { Gotta smell better than some shoppers/old folks}

get a vasectemy. { Time better spent}